In Dreams
by LadyNogs
Summary: Seven years since her run, and Sarah is haunted by her memories. How does she find her way back again, and is it worth it? Rated T for some adult themes, a bit of snogging. In my editing, this is a good stand-alone. Sequel to come soon!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first fic, so please be gentle! More chapters to come as I edit them.

She was dreaming again...always the same dream, always the same place. Ancient stones, older forests, watched over by the sullen light of a dying sun – every night, the same dream. The gates swung open, and her traitorous feet carried her forward, no matter how many times she screamed and struggled, helpless in her own head.

_Such a pity..._

_His_ voice, echoing in her bones, his final warning to her. She had been so foolish, so arrogant – she had thought it was a fairytale, just another one of her stories. She didn't know that it would change her, haunt her, make her so _different_.

She had beaten him, in the end, or so she thought. She had _won_. She had fought her way, though dangers untold, and hardships unnumbered, to the Castle beyond the Goblin City. She had faced the Goblin King, there in the shattered remnants of the Escher Room. She had said the words that undid him, said them with a casualness she hadn't felt, a calm that her pounding heart and aching chest had proved a lie.

And yet even then, she had felt regret – no sooner had the words fallen from her lips then she wished she could take them back. His eyes had tightened, with pain or maybe even fear, and he had thrown the crystal before his tattered cloak had swirled into feathers.

_Such a pity..._

She had been too young, too immature, to understand what he was offering her. Even now, some seven years after that fateful night, she wasn't sure if he had been sincere...or merely desperate not to lose. But the peach dream had frightened her – not because of what he'd done, but because of the way she had reacted. Her body had betrayed her, yearning for something she wasn't ready to accept. When he took her in his arms, her nerves had sung with something dark, something forbidden, and it was that desire that had broken his spell. His gloves couldn't conceal the heat of his hands, scorching her skin even through the tightly corseted bodice of the gown she had worn. His shoulders had been taut beneath her hand, as though he were restraining some terrible force, and when he sang she heard her name in the echoes between the notes.

The dream swept on, carrying her with it, and all too soon she was reliving those terrible words, that moment of destruction.

_You have no power over me..._

Sarah woke with a start, jerking against the tangle of sheets. Her skin was damp, and her heart pounded, but the dream was over, and she was alone.

She rose reluctantly, stripping the sheets from the bed as she went, and made her way down the short hallway to the bathroom of her tiny apartment. Reddened eyes and dark circles met her gaze from the mirror, and her long dark hair was snarled around her face.

Seven years had passed since she ran the Labyrinth, and for seven years she had the same dream, every night. The same nightmare. Every night in her dreams she ran the Labyrinth again, over and over again, forced to relive her own foolish pride. Trembling hands started the shower, and she stripped out of her sweat-soaked nightgown.

She was older now, her hips wider, her legs longer, but so little else had changed. Still a hair too thin for her frame, still pale and seemingly innocent. Well, perhaps not so seemingly – her time in the Labyrinth had changed her, made her different. Her peers had noticed it, even if they could not name it, and they responded with distance. When she had graduated high school, she had taken a job in the city, working for a little used bookstore, and moved into her tiny apartment without a backward glance at the town where she grew up. No friends to leave behind made for an easy break. Toby, by contrast, had grown into a gregarious, personable little boy, with an ever-changing roster of best friends.

The hot water pounding on her skin made her feel a bit more human, and by the time she gathered her purse and keys, she had nearly forgotten her nightly torment. But the tune she hummed under her breath on her walk to work was one never heard Aboveground.

The bookstore was unusually busy for a Thursday, and while it was stressful, it also made Sarah feel proud. When she had hired on, the bookstore had been on the verge of going under – books well into the red, late on rent and utilities, with no customer base and no reputation. Sarah had been the one to turn it around, sitting down with the owner one night over coffee and laying out her ideas. Her imagination served her well, and she spoke with confidence, and by midnight she had convinced the owner to run with her plan.

Sarah had been the one to set up the digital inventory, and the accounts with the online resellers. Sarah had been the one up late so many nights, researching the rarer books, posting them up for auction, boxing them up and shipping them off. She had been the one who spent six Sundays in a row in the alley behind the store building new shelves, and three Saturdays scouring thrift store and flea markets for a few chairs and a sofa. She'd even been the one who painted the mural in the children's section, of a hedgemaze, and a castle, and the dying sun setting behind it.

It took three months, once the store was done, for her efforts to begin to bear fruit, but in less than a year she had brought the little used bookstore firmly into the black again, for the first time in years, and the owner was able to actually draw a salary. Sarah got a nice raise, as well, though she tucked it away in her savings account every month.

At closing time, she harried the last few browsers out of the store, but by the time she finished straightening and counting and feeding the store cat, the sun was a swollen orange blister on the horizon, and the early fall wind had grown more cutting than she had expected that morning.

A few brown leaves skittered around her ankles as she walked the six blocks home to her apartment, early casualties of September. As the sun set, shadows gathered in the alleyways, reaching thin tendrils out beneath the streetlamps, and Sarah picked up her pace. She didn't like being caught out after dark, especially with the tang of lightning and rain in the air.

She made the turn onto her block, and cursed softly under her breath. Every street light but one was out. Thankfully, the one still burning was in front of her door – at least she wouldn't have to fumble for her house keys in the dark – but as she drew closer she felt a chill grip her throat.

Perched on the lamp post was a fawn and white barn owl.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing, alas.

Sarah's pulse echoed in her ears, a panicked, terrified drumbeat. _He_ was waiting for her, watching her. Clouds scudded across the moon, and her vision contracted to the single point of light in front of her door. The owl was motionless.

_Turn back, Sarah. Turn back, before it's too late._

Was his voice memory, or had he spoken? She didn't know. Her fear was unreasoning, unwanted, and her temper flared. _Why should I be afraid of YOU? I beat you. I won. You have no power over me._ Squaring her shoulders, she walked forward toward the lone street lamp.

The owl turned its head, eyes fixing on her, and shifted its talons on the slick steel of the lamp post. Sarah trembled once, a single violent shiver, as his gaze settled on her, but she didn't stop walking. The light formed a near perfect golden pool, and as she neared the edge she slowed. Gathering her courage and her anger, she stepped into the light.

It promptly winked out.

She swore, spinning about, and she heard the scrape of talons as the owl launched itself from the post. The wind brought the smell of leather and peat and cinnamon to her nose, and she felt the hair on her arms rise.

"Hello, Sarah."

His voice was the same. The same silken drawl, the same gravel underneath, as though he had just been screaming. Her breath caught, and she froze, the darkness shrouding her.

"Jareth," she said, schooling her voice and her features to an emotionless calm. Part of her wanted to rage at him, to blame him for her awkwardness and her fear and her strangeness. Part of her wanted to fall to her knees and beg his forgiveness. Anger and fear and lust all struggled for dominance, and for a moment she was able to keep her balance. "Why are you here?"

"Seven years, Sarah," he replied, and she felt his breath along her neck. She was suddenly aware of his presence behind her, so close they were nearly touching. His scent rolled over her. "Seven years since you ran my Labyrinth. Seven years to the day. To the hour." His voice was a caress along her senses, both seductive and repulsive. "Seven years to regain my throne, Sarah."

"What?" Her voice was unstrung, shocked. Surely she hadn't -

"How you turned my world, you precious thing," he murmured, and she felt his gloved fingers skim over her hair.

"Don't touch me," she snapped, jerking away from him. An amused chuckle sounded from the darkness. Sarah felt her skin crawl. "What do you want from me, Goblin King?"

Only silence answered her, lingering until she was almost certain he had vanished. But then she felt the heat of him again, felt his hands ghost down her arms. "My freedom, Sarah. I have spent seven years rebuilding what you destroyed. And still you haunt me. I desire nothing more than to be free of you."

His tone was warm, but there was menace underneath. Sarah barked a laugh. "Free of _me?_ When you march through my head every night? I haven't gotten a good night's sleep since I was fifteen, and you say you want _me _ to let _you _be free?" His hand suddenly gripped her arm, a hot, leather-clad vise. He moved quickly, drawing her along behind him, and she found herself stumbling in his wake as he dragged her away from her building and into the park that was set across the street. Terror spiked in Sarah, and she struggled, but his grip on her arm was like steel. Trees loomed in the darkness, and he pulled her into their shadows.

"Now Sarah," he purred, backing her against the trunk of an oak. "What monstrous thing do you expect me to do for you now, hmm?" The clouds shifted, and moonlight filtered through the leaves. His teeth glinted. Gloved hands captured her wrists, pinning them above her head, and he leaned over her. "Shall I kiss you?"

Sarah could feel his breath skim across her cheekbone, and her pulse roared in her ears. There was something feral in his voice, something predatory. Some small corner of her mind was begging her to scream, to fight, to get away, anything, but something tight and hot had lodged in her throat.

"Please," she whispered, not sure if she meant _Please, don't _or _Please, don't stop._ His smile widened, mocking.

"Say your right words, Sarah. Just say the words, and I will give you everything you want." His words were soft, his voice strangely expressionless. She felt the same tumult as she had seven years before, the same ache. This was _wrong_, and yet some part of her had wanted this. Seeing him frightened her, repelled her, and yet...was he not beautiful? His face was unchanged – the same sharp lines, the same cruel mouth, the same mismatched pupils. His fingers tightened on her wrists, pressing her harder against the rough bark.

"No...please, no. I can't..." Her eyes were wide, glassy, and her breath came in sharp gasps. She saw his expression change, his mouth twisting in something akin to pain, and he withdrew sharply. She sagged to her knees, covering her face to hide the sudden rush of hot tears.

"Such a pity," he breathed.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here? I beat you! _I won!_" His laughter was harsh, almost bitter.

"Oh my dear Sarah, I had hoped we could move beyond that. Truth be told, I had hoped you would have been clever enough to realize that seven years ago." He leaned against a tree trunk, all lean angles and coiled strength. "You defeated my Labyrinth when you took that last leap. I suppose you were too young to understand what I was offering you, at the end of our little game. It's not an offer I ever planned on making again."

She furiously scrubbed at her cheeks, trying to clear her head.

"I don't understand," she said, glaring up at him. He cocked his head to the side – _so alien_, she thought. _So...inhuman._

"The Labyrinth is not merely a trap for wished away children, Sarah," he chided. "Most mortals take the gifts I offer them. Those few who choose to run rarely make past the outer walls." Again, his mouth twisted, and a flick of something other than arrogance flashed across his features. "You are unique, Sarah. You entered my Labyrinth and changed it. What should have been perilous became almost comically easy to overcome. You changed all of it." He shoved himself away from the tree and began to pace. "It took me some time to understand why. The Underground is fed by belief, and yours was the deepest well it had had to draw from in centuries. The Labyrinth sensed that, and drew you in, rather than casting you out as it should have done." He paused, glancing at her. Again, she felt a thrill of something like fear.

"The Labyrinth had decided to choose a Queen, Sarah."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A/N: This is a short one, but this is where the break had to happen.

Sarah felt her heartbeat slow as Jareth's words washed over her.

_The __Labyrinth __had __decided __to __choose __a __Queen__._

A strange calm fell over her, and she looked up at him without fear.

"Is that why you asked me to let you rule me, at the end?" she asked, and he smiled at her, but the light in his eyes made it far from friendly.

"Yes, dear Sarah. I must admit, I wasn't prepared for your reaction. A simple no would have sufficed. Though, to be honest, I'm not sure it would have changed the ultimate outcome."

"And what was that?"

"You destroyed my kingdom, Sarah. Words have power, and yours most of all. If I had no power over the rightful Queen of my land, how could I ever hope to hold it? When you said those words..." His voice trailed off.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never meant..."

"What's said is said, Sarah," he interrupted, his voice cold. "And what's done is done. You rejected my offer once. I shall not give you the opportunity to do so again." He turned away from her sharply, his hands clasped behind his back. "I have rebuilt my kingdom from the ashes you left behind, Sarah. But until I am free of you, I cannot reclaim my throne. My Labyrinth was not the only victim of your _changes_." There was venom in his words, and Sarah flinched.

"Free of me," she repeated, shaking her head. "You said that before, and I still don't understand what you mean." Again, that bitter laugh.

"Think, girl. Think of the stories you told your brother. Think of the stories you told yourself."

_But __what __no __one __knew __is __that __the __King __of __the __Goblins __had __fallen __in __love __with __the __girl__..._

"No...you can't mean _that_," she said. "You never loved me. That was just make believe." She squeezed her eyes shut on tears. She heard him move, felt his warmth near her, and when she opened her eyes he was kneeling before her, his face solemn.

"Oh but I did, Sarah. I loved you more than any of my kind has any right to love. You were selfish, and cruel, and beautiful, and I loved you. I offered you a place by my side, and you refused me. I offered you all that I was, and you cast me aside. You forced me to love you, just as you forced my Labyrinth to shape to your will, and when I gave you what you wanted you discarded it as easily as laughing." There was no smile, no mocking tilt of his head, just those wild eyes, inches from her own, and the sweet cinnamon scent of his breath across her mouth. His gaze searched her face, lingering over every feature as though committing the lines to memory. "Give me back my heart, Sarah."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

_Give __me __back __my __heart__._

Sarah felt time slow around her. An unnameable ache blossomed in her chest, catching in her throat. She stared into Jareth's mismatched eyes, lost in the agony she saw reflected there. She couldn't speak, couldn't put voice to the thoughts that tumbled through her mind.

For seven years, she had burned with regret. She had fought him, scorned him, fled from him. And he had haunted her, waking and sleeping, tormenting her in her dreams of him. She had withdrawn from the world, withdrawn from everyone who knew her, everyone who cared for her, because no one else could fill the aching void _he_ had left behind. His words echoed through her.

_Give __me __back __my __heart__._

She wanted to weep, or laugh, at the bitter irony of his request. He asked her to surrender his heart - when he had held hers captive since she had first laid eyes on him. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears, feel the sting of tears in her eyes.

"What if I say no," she whispered. Jareth's eyes widened, and rage flashed across his features so quickly she flinched away from him. She wasn't fast enough. His hands were buried in her hair, and his mouth slanted across hers. He kissed her like a man drowning, forcing her lips apart and plundering her mouth with his tongue. Sarah moaned against him, heat blooming low in her belly, and her hands fluttered against his chest like trapped birds. He growled as she surrendered, nipping at her lips. She tasted blood, sharp and copper-tinged, and gripped the open collar of his shirt in her fists. He was devouring her, consuming her, and she fell beneath a red wave of lust.

As quickly as it had began, it was over - he tore himself free of her mouth, rising to his feet and backing away. His eyes were glazed, and a single drop of her blood glistened on his lip in the moonlight. Sarah swayed, yearning toward him, but he raised a hand, almost in warning. It trembled between them, warding her away from him, and she rose slowly, unsteady on her feet.

"Sarah..." he began, but she shook her head sharply.

"No, Jareth. Don't tell me that I don't know what I'm doing." Her voice was rough with desire, but her head was clear for the first time since she'd seen the owl on the lamp post. "You say that you want to be free of me, that you won't offer yourself again. It isn't fair to ask that of me. You say you want your heart back, but you haven't offered me mine in exchange. So the answer is no." His face contorted, snarling.

"If you defy me, Sarah, I will take what is mine by rights." She heard the warning in his voice, and understood it. She was no longer the frightened fifteen year old she had been when she faced him the first time.

"Seven years ago, I was still a child. I wasn't ready. For any of it. And I have regretted my choice for seven years, Jareth. I have relived it every night." Her voice was steady, calm. "I didn't understand how I could be so afraid of you and yet still want you to touch me, notice me. I was just as afraid of myself." She smiled, softly, and watched as her words settled on him. The anger drained from him like water, and his shoulders slumped. Her heart ached to see him look so defeated - even when she had spoken the fateful words seven years before, he had kept his pride.

"Regret..." His eyes pierced her. "Oh, my lovely Sarah, you know nothing of regret." Sarah stood silently, sensing the history behind those words. Jareth seemed strangely vulnerable, as though her admission had broken some wall within him. He moved closer to her, but his stance was no longer threatening, no longer a bid for dominance. She waited, but he didn't speak, merely stood at her side, gazing into the shadows beneath the trees.

"Jareth," she said, gently. "Can you forgive me?" He looked at her sharply, and when he cocked his head some measure of his confidence seemed to return.

"My dear, whatever for?" he drawled.

"For destroying your kingdom. For hurting you." The smile that played across his mouth was rueful.

"Ah, so now we come to brutal honesty. However unkind it may be."

"It's better than all the deception, Jareth. At least this time maybe we'll both know what we're getting into."

"Ah." Just a single syllable. "And just what is that, hmm? What are you planning on 'getting into'?" His grin was mocking.

"You said that the Labyrinth had chosen a Queen..." she paused, gathering her thoughts. "I assume you meant me?" He inclined his head regally. She took a deep breath. For seven years, she had throttled her own impulsiveness, her tendency to reckless action. The Labyrinth had taught her that lesson in spades. But now, standing next to the Goblin King, she loosed the reins on her nature. "I'm willing to try, if you are."


End file.
